


The (Mis)Adventures of a Priest and his Fox

by vulpineTrickster



Category: Pocket Monsters: Gold & Silver & Crystal | Pokemon Gold Silver Crystal Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Dorks, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 19:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1869582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpineTrickster/pseuds/vulpineTrickster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of snapshots of a young priest and his life with a lively kitsune for a guardian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My Nee-chan came up with this whole supernatural AU and I jumped on her bandwagon ~~once again~~ XD And I've been meaning to write some Honorshipping~
> 
> You can read the list [here](http://kaizerinj.tumblr.com/post/86831806011).
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon or its franchise.
> 
> **_DO NOT COPY OR DUPLICATE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!!!!!_ **

“Falkneeeeer, I’m bored.”  
  
Falkner opens his eyes and glances at a tall man seated in the pew with him. The man lounges back with his bare feet resting atop the pew in front of them. Peeking out from his shaggy blond hair is a pair of twitching fox ears.  
  
“Go back to the house then,” is Falkner’s clipped reply.  
  
“But I’ll be bored there.”  
  
“Then be quiet.”  
  
“No can do.”  
  
“And why not, Morty?”  
  
Morty flashes a toothy grin. “You know better than anyone that I cannot keep quiet for too long.”  
  
 _Oh for the love of_ — Falkner returns to his prayers, willing away the urge to exorcise his so-called guardian.  
  
“Come on! You do this _every day_. Missing one won’t kill you.” Morty then pauses. “Will it? ‘Cause I’ve been reading up on your God and he can really dole out those vengeances.”  
  
The priest groans, patience dwindling. _How did I ever get stuck with a guardian like **him**?!_  
  
The rustle of fabric and a solid body draping over his back has the vein above his left temple pulsing in irritation. The sleeves of Morty’s patterned haori blanket around Falkner’s kneeled form.  
  
“Are you finished yet?” his guardian asks, tugging at the priest's white collar.  
  
“No.”  
  
“What about now?”  
  
Falkner grits his teeth. “No.”  
  
There is a bout of silence until Morty asks again, resulting in the priest roughly elbowing the offending fox-man in the side; Falkner smirks at the pained grunt that follows after.  
  
Morty sits back in his seat with a pout. “Was that really necessary?”  
  
“Yes,” he seethes.  
  
“You’re no fun.”  
  
“So I’m told.”  
  
When Morty does not respond, Falkner considers it a miracle. He gets a few uninterrupted seconds to himself before something heavy plops in his lap. Looking down, he finds a very fluffy blond fox with five fluffier tails staring up at him with a pleading expression in its purple eyes. The fox lets out a small whine, its tails wagging hopefully.  
  
“That is not going to work, Morty.”  
  
There is another whine.  
  
“You are a grown adult.”  
  
Morty’s eyes widen; the pleading intensifies.  
  
“I’m very upset with you.”  
  
The fox bows his head; the tails stop wagging.  
  
A beat later, Falkner’s expression softens and moves to pick up his silly guardian, cradling him. Morty wiggles around, finding a comfortable spot in his charge’s arms.  
  
The priest pets the fox’s head, giving momentary scratches behind his ears. “Do not think that this counts as forgiveness. You know better than anyone that I don’t like seeing you sad,” he mutters.  
  
All five tails start wagging again as Morty reaches up to lick Falkner’s cheek with a happy purr.  
  
“Now,” Falkner starts while placing his guardian back in his lap, “sit here and be quiet while I finish. Oh drat, I forgot where I left off. I better start again.”  
  
He smirks at Morty’s annoyed yip.


	2. Chapter 2

Morty peeks around the corner with his prey in sight. He quickly scans the room and finds no pesky obstructions in his way. _Excellent._

The delicious smells permeating the air have been driving him wild all day and now it is time to act! With a toothy smirk, he quietly creeps forward, his claws poised to snatch his unsuspecting prey. Just when he is within arm’s length, Falkner appears and slaps a spatula against the kitsune’s outstretched hand.

“Oh no you don’t!” yells the priest.

Morty lets out a yelp and jumps back, holding his sore hand to his chest. “But Falkner!”

Falkner stands between his guardian and five trays of gingerbread cookies on the kitchen counter with an annoyed expression.

“I told you _No_.”

“Please?”

The priest continues glaring, clearly not backing down.

“Not even a small one?”

Falkner threateningly raises the spatula.

Morty twitches, his fox ears drooping. “Fine.”

His charge nods and turns to the cookies. He places the spatula down and grabs a piping bag filled with icing. Pulling up a stool, Falkner sits down in front of one of the trays and begins decorating the cookies.

Still dejected, the kitsune pulls up another stool next to Falkner.

“I thought Kurisumasu is about good-will and charity and all that junk.”

“It is,” Falkner replies, not even glancing up.

“So why won’t you let me have a cookie?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Nothing in particular.”

“That’s not a reason!” huffs Morty.

“Morty, please, I’m trying to concentrate.”

The blond fox displeasingly pouts, slumping in his seat. He resolves in watching Falkner carefully ice each cookie with smiley faces and button dollops and squiggle designs.

When the priest told him about the yearly winter holiday and its many traditions, Morty thought it was a little odd for humans to consume cookies in the shape of humans; the deer-shaped ones he understands (deer are very yummy).

And the tales about a fat jolly man in red who sneaks into houses to steal the humans’ food, and a singing man of snow who entices children in a musical frenzy? Let’s just say those stories left Morty highly protective of Falkner for at least a week much to the priest’s ire— _Western religions are weird._

Being too wrapped up in his moping, the kitsune barely misses Falkner calling his name. Turning around, he finds the priest holding out a decorated cookie to him.

Morty owlishly blinks at the offered treat. “I thought you said I couldn’t have one.”

“Yes but only because they weren’t done yet,” Falkner explains.

The kitsune is too stunned to answer. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it soon after.

Falkner’s cheeks tinge pink at how unnervingly quiet his guardian is.

“Do you still want the cookie or not?” he asks in a hurry. “If you don’t, I am going to pack it up with the rest.”

“No! I mean Yes!” Morty yells a bit too loudly, making grabby hands for the treat. “Yes, I want the cookie please.”

Falkner hands the cookie to the beaming kitsune before heading to the closet to retrieve two large platters.

Morty stares down at the gingerbread man with fondness. He runs a claw delicately down its smiling face.

“Aren’t you going to eat it?” Falkner asks, placing platters next to the trays.

“Hmm? Oh. I will.”

 

 

 

 

Morty never does. He keeps the cookie safely wrapped in a wooden box next to his futon.

Years later, when it is stale and dried up, the cookie still smells of Falkner.


	3. Chapter 3

Falkner rarely gets sick and when he does, he cloisters himself in his home and rides it out with medicine, his books, and quiet. His method worked perfectly over the years until Morty became a permanent fixture in his life.

When Morty sauntered into his charge’s room one morning and found Falkner coughing with red-cheeks and watery eyes, he panicked and jumped to the conclusion the young man was dying. The kitsune worriedly fretted over Falkner, adding to his already throbbing headache.

“I’m not dying, you overgrown fluffball! I just have a cold!” the priest shouts, irritating his sore throat even more.

“A cold?” ponders Morty.

Falkner sighs, nodding. “Yes. A cold is a common illness among humans. I’ll be fine as long as I take my medicine and get some rest.”

The kitsune is silent yet his ears are twitching. “Are you cold?”

“No.”

“Then why call it a ‘cold’ if you aren’t cold?”

Groaning, Falkner draws the blanket up over his head; he is not in the mood in playing twenty questions.

“It’s because humans usually get colds in the winter months,” is his muffled reply followed by a few sneezes.

“But it’s summer now—”

“Yes, I’m aware of that, Morty,” he snaps, “now _please_ , let me rest.”

For once, his guardian does as told and leaves the bedroom. After tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable spot, Falkner drifts to sleep until a gentle nudge rouses him awake.

“Falkner. Falkner.”

He hears Morty’s calm voice cut through his sick-addled haze. “I had just gotten to sleep, Morty,” he sleepily mutters.

“You’ve been asleep for four hours.”

Falkner shuffles into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. “It feels shorter. Why’d you wake me?”

The kitsune beams at him, holding up a tray. “I made you something to eat.”

“Is my kitchen still standing?”

Morty pouts at the accusation. “Rude. I guess you don’t want it then.”

“Maybe but I know you’re going to give it to me regardless.”

“Naturally,” the kitsune smirks. “I made you soup.” He places the tray on the nightstand and then picks up a bowl.

Falkner looks at the bowl in Morty’s hand, watching steam waft up from the broth and noodles. It appears to be normal soup but one can never know, especially with a trickster spirit.

Morty takes a seat on the edge of the bed next to Falkner. “It’s from a can,” he sheepishly says. “I don’t know what sick humans eat but I figure it’s better than nothing.”

“This is fine, thank you.”

As Falkner reaches for the spoon, his guardian snatches it up first. In the midst of protesting, Morty had scooped a hefty amount of noodles and chicken chunks on the spoon and shoves it in the priest’s open mouth.

Falkner gags in surprise and quickly gulps down the hot food before it can scald his tongue.

“Are you insane?!” he coughs. He grabs the napkin on the tray and wipes his mouth.

The kitsune gives him confused look. “Did I not do it right?”

“What? Choke me?”

“In those movie things Kotone showed me, when a child is sick, the mother would feed it soup.”

Falkner groans. “Kotone is never watching you again and I’m not a child! I can feed myself.” He makes a grab for the spoon.

Morty moves the utensil out of the priest’s reach, clutching it possessively. “No.”

“Morty, stop it.”

“But you’re sick, Falkner! You’re weak and helpless! A slight breeze can knock you over!”

“And you are overreacting!” Falkner’s headache worsens with his shouting. He leans back against the pillows.

With a sad frown, Morty puts the bowl and spoon back on the tray. “I only act this way because I don’t want you to die,” he says, “and you’re always taking care of me, so…”

The kistune leaves the rest unsaid, letting silence pass between them.

Falkner lets out a groan and sits back up. He reaches over and picks up the spoon, handing it to his guardian.

Morty is confused by the gesture. He looks at the priest, probing for an answer with his questioning gaze.

“The soup’s getting cold,” is his charge’s reply.

Morty visibly brightens, his smile practically taking up his whole face, and grabs the bowl, balancing it in his lap and spoons another mouthful.

“Say ahhhh~”

Falkner lightly scoffs, “Idiot fox,” and does as told.

 

 

 

 

The next morning, Falkner is feeling a whole lot better…until he sees the disastrous state of his kitchen.

“MORTY!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a lot of trial and error before Morty found the soup can XD


End file.
